Running

Note to self: After months of being sedentary, and a week after surgery, running a couple of miles and walking all over with an excitable 80 pound dog is, umm, a recipe for sore muscles. Perhaps a little moderation might be in order next time?

Well, moderation or not, I'm feeling so much better now that I'm practically giddy. There is nothing like feeling like hell to remind a person just how good it is to feel normal. No pain when I breathe in, no back clenching between my shoulderblades, no mental shadows of impending doom with upcoming surgeries.

Just a body that is adjusting, nice soft breasts that don't wake me up at night (try sleeping with baseballs in your bed, and you get the idea....roll over on them and they wake you up). These are not noticeable.

Wow.

So today I did a lot of normal things. Drank coffee with the family, made oatmeal with berries and yogurt for breakfast, went to church, had lunch with friends, took Tessa and Shep to the park and the beach. (Ryan had to work this afternoon, but at least we got a half day with him.) We ran an errand to the grocery store after the park, and when we got home I put in a loaf of bread to bake, made a batch of granola, did a load of laundry, swept, tided, and made dinner (dover sole piccata style, with broccoli and a not-so-great boxed risotto from Trader Joe's). Played with Tessa throughout. Read her a really long story called "If a Bus Could Talk" about Rosa Parks and MLK, Jr. and the brave people who have helped to integrate this country.

Nothing spectacular in that whole list. Nothing unusual. But it's so NORMAL that I just revel in it. Listening to "This I Believe" on NPR while making coffee is a TREAT when my body doesn't hurt. Running after Tessa and Shep is a treat when my body lets me do it. (For the sake of gratitude, I will not focus on how much my quads hurt when we went down the long steps from the top of the park to the beach. That pain was self-inflicted from running, nothing to do with surgery or breast cancer.)

And my mind is all over the place - still fuzzy from anesthesia (really, could someone PLEASE research the cognitive affects of anesthesia? I know I'm not imagining this) but recovering. I'm thinking about how to build a chicken coop and raise chickens, where the garden should go and how much bigger it should become, how to really get the Hunts Point book moving forward, when to schedule my runs (early morning...oh dear), etc.

So I'm running, literally and figuratively. I get out of breath but I know I can do this. Time to create my training plan; time to figure out who to be and what to do with my life!

This oughtta be good.